


Day 1: Past

by KnowledgequeenAbc



Series: Angst Week 2020 [1]
Category: Lego Ninjago
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnowledgequeenAbc/pseuds/KnowledgequeenAbc
Summary: Harumi's past was a twisted thing. But it led her to where she ended up.
Series: Angst Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875817
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Day 1: Past

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! I am attempting the 2020 Ninjago Angst Week over on tumblr so here is. my hand at day. ft. Harumi.  
> this is also cross-posted to my tumblr, knowledgequeenabc, if you wanna come yell at me there!

The ash settled around the broken fragments of her life. A ripped photo fluttered delicately through the air and landed in the curious grasp of a paramedic.

She didn’t notice. The faint breath of air it tickled her face with couldn’t pull her mind away from the violent shaking of the floor, the walls, the debris crashing down in jagged chunks. Shrieks piercing the air over the sickening crunch of the building giving out echoed in her ears, to haunt her dreams for years afterward. Her eyes were watering.

“Where are your parents, child?” The hazy figure dabbed softly at the bloody cut on her face, caused by a chunk of the elevator ceiling slashing at her cheek. She didn’t flinch; what was a little more stinging when she had been crushed like her dolls under the rubble? 

Her parents … something in her chest burned. Her parents were … looking away, eyes brimming with pain, pushing her into the elevator as she screamed and reached out. She wanted her papa, she wanted her _mama—_

Her parents were in the apartment, and the apartment was gone, so … 

Her parents weren’t here anymore. 

“Do you have a name?” 

Harumi, her name was Harumi. But _Harumi_ was the happy child in the not-destroyed apartment playing with her ninja dolls as her mama and papa laughed and cooked dinner together. All those things were missing, though, because the ninja didn’t save her from the giant snake that destroyed her home and mama and papa _weren’t here,_ so if she wasn’t that child then she was … 

“Well. Aren’t you the quiet one?” 

It was so loud in her head. The people in the elevator were still screaming and the building was still falling, and her parents were still promising her they’d see her when they got down. 

She learned two things that day. One, the ninja weren’t heroes, like she thought, and actual heroes, like Garmadon, were the ones doing all the saving. Two, she would never be happy sweet Harumi ever again. She was nothing but quiet.

———————————

They put her in the orphanage. No one wanted her, the unfriendly, strange-looking, dead-eyed waif that didn’t speak and cried herself to sleep. 

It suited her fine, because she only wanted one thing. And she was never getting it back, because they were in the past, when she could be happy, and this was now. 

The Emperor and Empress—Harumi hadn’t known Ninjago still had those—visited one day. The head of the orphanage whispered excitedly, see how generous and charitable they were, to bless such a common place with their presence! She didn’t understand the fuss, or why the other children were excited, too, but she weakly swallowed the last bite of a meal she’d once loved and cleaned up anyway, as she had been told to. 

A man and a woman, clad _subtly_ in resplendent jade robes, entered through the door, imposing and tall. Their hands were clasped behind their backs, hair swept neatly back, smiles wide and perfect and plastic. She didn’t like them, Harumi decided, watching their poised strides. They looked stiff, like her now-buried dolls, like they didn’t laugh when no one was around. 

Of course, as luck would have it, they saw the mousy girl with pearly skin that sunburned easy, and ruby eyes, and pale hair, standing in the corner and peering out unhappily, and decided she was _perfect_. 

“And who is this little one?” mused Ninjago’s emperor, coming to a stop in front of her. 

“T-That’s just Harumi,” the manager said hastily. “She’s been here ever since the Devourer killed her parents, she’s really not very easy—”

“Oh, poor dear,” cooed the Empress, bending close. Harumi leaned away, her nose smarting from the jasmine scent that clung to the royal.

“We’ve wanted a child for so long,” continued the woman. “No matter our efforts, we could never conceive. And what better way to ensure an heir than to take in a child in need of a home?”  
  
“It’s perfect,” agreed the Emperor. “For generations our family hid from those who wished the royal family harm, but we must be good-hearted where we can. Such a pity, that the citizens were subject to such devastation. Perhaps we can give one such victim a home fit for a queen?” 

“And such a _unique_ -looking girl,” the Empress said, eyeing her snowy pale hair, voice dripping molasses. “It would be dreadful if you were to be overlooked because of it. We’ll take you home, how does that sound?” 

She smiled with tight lips. Harumi felt something unfamiliar bubble up within her, stronger than her usual jealousy of the other kids who could still smile; it felt like she wanted their pretty green robes to burn until they were all ashes. 

“My,” marveled the orphanage manager again. “The depth of your goodwill knows no bounds! Thank you so much for your visit today, your Majesties. Of course you may take her as your heir. Harumi has been … uncooperative, here, but perhaps she will thrive in a palace!” 

He couldn’t wait to get rid of her, could he. 

Fine, she’d go. She hated it here. The other kids were all dumb, they were too loud and never left her alone and made fun of her for being so quiet and they liked the _ninja_.

———————————

The senior servant woman cried out when she first saw the girl the royal family had brought back to the palace. In retrospect, it was her Harumi had to thank, truly. 

“Your Majesty,” she stammered, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but don’t you think her appearance is … unbecoming, for a princess?”  
  
“Nonsense.” The Empress tutted, grasping Harumi by the wrist. “No one else would have taken her in, but she’s perfect for us. Her hair won’t even need any powder, and her pale skin won’t matter under the face paint.”  
  
“But her eyes …” The servant woman dusted off a couple more of the royal library’s shelves, and coughed in the cloud of dirt before speaking again. Her next words, spoken boldly in the presence of one so quiet she lacked a presence, seared into Harumi’s mind. 

“They burn like an Oni’s.”

———————————

She was coerced into speaking again through the months, mostly because glowering at those who spoke to you didn’t go over well with the Emperor and Empress. Long in the past though it rested, the memory of crumbling buildings and terrified screams and the sad acceptance on her parents’ face as they pushed her to safety haunted her through the nights. It left a knot in her stomach and chest, one that never loosened but pulled itself tighter with each passing day. As time went on, it burned, angrier, blacker, bubbled into something so poisonous that she delighted in how illicit it felt to entertain the feeling at all. 

So everyone else in the world got to be happy. Everyone else got to live with their parents, grow and dream and laugh, and praise be to the ninja for making it all possible, right? Even the residents of the palace sang their praises whenever the children playing dress-up managed to swing their weapons hard enough to take anything out. Forget that they hadn’t saved her. Forget that _Garmadon_ was the one who had killed the Great Devourer. 

… It was a pipe dream, but when she was alone, she wondered what her life would have been if Garmadon had taken her in instead. 

Everyone else in the world got to live their idyllic lives, but her place was here, in the palace, to speak when spoken to and learn her royal duties and put respect on the royal family’s name. Be dignified, Harumi. Carry yourself like royalty, Harumi. Stop skipping your lessons, Harumi. We’re punishing you because we love you, Harumi. We saved you, so you need to respect us, Harumi. Harumi, Harumi, Harumi. 

Her name felt like bile, from their lips. She wanted to scream at them, sometimes, that she hated their dumb rules and pretty palaces and heavy robes and caky face paint. 

She didn’t scream, though. All the complaints, all the back-handed insults about her character, all the disappointed stares, all of the rigid rule-following that crept under her skin until she wanted to shred herself and her room to pieces could be tolerated. At least there was Hutchins, master-at-arms, stern, reserved, but soft with her in a way the royals weren’t. At least he spoke to her outside of royal duty, outside of education, outside of being a princess. He showed her passageways and ways around the palace no one else knew, when she needed to get away from it all. He even sang to her, a lullaby about spiders that had sent her into tears before it grew on her.

The first time he reminded her to brush her teeth, she stood in front of the mirror with her eyes prickling. When he gave her a journal and told her to write how she felt, she stared blankly at him before giving him a tentative, but true, smile. If no one else cared about her, at least he did. 

———————————

It seemed that no matter how much Harumi wanted to believe that her life couldn’t get more cruel, it proved her wrong. 

Garmadon had been cleansed of evil. The Overlord was defeated. 

And this man, silver-haired, wrinkled, lacking all of the Lord’s power, had _bowed before the Emperor for forgiveness._ Her blood had roared hot in her ears, fury making her see red. How could he be so weak, after what he had done for her? For Ninjago? _Get up,_ she wanted to scream at him, _stop groveling!_ But of course, he didn’t. 

And that was that. 

Her fawning over Garmadon was a thing of the past. 

———————————

The ninja had saved the world, perhaps, but it had been far too near a thing. Look at them, with their smug grins, she would think, as they grinned at cameras and rejoiced in their victory. They hadn’t earned an ounce of that admiration. 

One caught her eye more than the others, though. They were all despicable, but the one in green (it was always green, wasn’t it. Green scales, green robes, green gi) with tousled blond hair and a child’s smile, the youngest of them, his clothes bleached golden with his power, stood at the fore of their little ragtag group.

 _This_ was the green ninja? The golden savior of Ninjago? _Garmadon’s son?_

He had done this. He had washed away Garmadon’s power, made him weak, made him cowardly, made him _kneel before the emperor in front of her._ He got to stand up on his little pedestal, playing the hero, giggling and smiling like it was no challenge at all, unaware of the pain and the bodies trailing his every step. And they all _ate it up_. 

It made her sick.

She caught a broadcast on TV, one day. 

_“And here we have everyone’s favorite, the Golden Ninja himself! Here to answer some questions is Lloyd Garmadon!”_

Lloyd. 

Harumi turned the name in her mind. She would remember it. 

———————————

And then the man of her idolization, then her contempt, was gone, in the clutches of the Cursed Realm as it drowned. 

Mostly, she felt crushingly empty. By now, Harumi had learned the ins-and-outs of her schedule, well enough to sneak around and out of the palace without being missed (as though anyone missed her anyway). She did it frequently nowadays, and she’d almost gotten caught a couple times. It should have concerned her far more, but the mask was on well enough that her captors never suspected she was getting up to trouble. After all, Harumi was so well-behaved and soft-spoken! Why would she ever do such a thing?

Hah.

Her history lessons had always been a dreadful thing, the tutor dry and stand-offish, but admittedly there was much of interest—especially the parts where Garmadon was involved. Wars with snakes, great elementals, betrayal and light and darkness … such a complex history. 

She wasn’t considering any of it on the day she snuck out before lessons started, to … think, maybe. Catch a breath. Avoid the stern eyes of the Emperor and Empress, and all those under their employ. Harumi had merely been wandering around, taking in the disgustingly ornate surroundings, before her eyes fell on the innocuous display case. 

Wait. 

She was near her room again, wasn’t she? This case was off-limits for her, and she’d learned that with a harsh yank on her wrist and a stern scolding as a child. As she grew older, she’d lost interest … until now. Plus, away on another publicity stunt, to be the good little figureheads they thought they were, Their _Majesties_ weren’t here to shoo her away. 

The case housed an ugly orange mask, streaked through with grotesque patterns painted onto a snarling face. Its name eluded her for a moment until she remembered.

_“Her eyes. They burn like an Oni’s.”_

An Oni Mask. 

It almost felt to be whispering to her, calling her closer, and with a start Harumi realized the voice felt vaguely familiar. But it _couldn’t_ be, unless— 

Well. This was the Palace of Secrets, after all. It seemed she had a secret to adopt. 

A familiar passion relit itself under her belly. 

Harumi was advanced enough in her studies now to learn the things most did not in their normal education, and the tales of Dragon and Oni certainly fell under her curriculum. Making it to the room where her lessons were normally held with minutes to spare, she walked in, shoulders squared, and sat herself down with a decisive _thump_. 

Her tutor, noticing the change in her attitude, eyed her warily.

Harumi did nothing but smile, and it felt like she was finally baring her fangs. After so long, she had something to think about. The past would inform her new reality, because she would drag it kicking and screaming into the present.

“I’d like to learn about the Oni today.” 

———————————

Hutchins, bless his heart, was as helpful as ever, although as the years went on his prodding had become less sweet and more of a nuisance. It didn’t matter, though. He was still useful for getting what she wanted, so long as she smiled sweetly enough. Under the guise of helping her study for history exams, he took her to the most comprehensive libraries in Ninjago, and she read like never before. With her Oni-red eyes, she read until her eyes stung from being open so long, and she learned amazing things, piecing them together with her lessons. The tumultuous history of Oni and Dragon! The lineage of the First Spinjitzu Master! The Oni masks infused with their dark magic! The ability to resurrect dead Oni! 

A beautiful, outlandish, fantastic idea sprouted in her mind and refused to uproot itself. 

Perhaps she had been too premature in giving up her faith. 

Perhaps Garmadon wasn’t weak so much as he needed a _push,_ should she call it, in the right direction. 

Maybe _she_ could provide that push. Bring back the powerful, fearless Garmadon of the _past._

She set to work frenetically. The mask of obedience, grace, mildness, was pulled on tighter than ever. The Palace of Secrets was about to have a few more secrets between its walls, and no one could suspect a thing. To recruit her army was thankless work, but the odd trio were trustworthy, she knew. They were different. Wrong. 

Like her. 

From there, the numbers only grew. With the ninja split up to search for their pathetic master, there was nothing to stop the Sons of Garmadon from proliferating into something grand. They were lowlifes, but it hardly mattered. She would stoop as low as she needed proudly, if it got her what she wanted. And want it she did, after a whole life of having the things she wanted snatched away by fate. The freedom of acting as she pleased, biking in the grungier streets with the wind whipping against her face, surrounded by people who didn’t care if she was royalty, was a heady drink. She embraced it wholeheartedly as she zeroed in on her goal.

The undertaking didn’t truly click together for her, though, until one night spent plotting a break-in to Borg Tower with the generals. Whacky, unhinged Ultra Violet leaned against a wall, twirling a sai, and fixed her with a hard eye. 

“You got a name?”

Harumi paused. 

_“Do you have a name?”_

“I already addressed this question,” Harumi said evenly, from her seat over the map of Borg Tower. “You don’t need my name.”  
  
“Well, give us _somethin’,”_ UV snorted. The lady idly tossed her sai up in the air and snatched it up as it fell. “Or else I’m just gonna have to keep callin’ ya _Girlie.”_

Harumi stopped short of brushing Ultra Violet’s question off again. Killow was looking at her too, and she could tell he’d pick it up if she didn’t answer.

And they had a point. She was their _leader_. They needed a title for her, something to rally behind, something that wouldn’t reveal her cards or who she was. 

It was one specific moment in her past that had landed her here, one she remembered now, more freshly than she had in years as she pondered. She swallowed the taste of ash, letting her heart turn over all the emotions she had felt that day like taking a rake to coals. 

“In that case, call me …”  
  
 _“Well. Aren’t you …”_

“The Quiet One.”   
  



End file.
